Out From Under
by BelinhaZpears
Summary: They still want to believe…
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **characters and places belong to Chris Carter, to 1013 Productions and to Fox Network, except those created by me. If you find this fanfiction similar to another one, it's nothing more than a coincidence.

**Production: **January, 2009 – August, 2010

**Rating: **PG-13

**Summary: **In 1998, Scully left Mulder and the FBI to pursue her interrupted path in Medicine and try to be happy. Ten years later, while trying to save a young boy's life, some old wounds of hers are reopened once their paths cross in the search of the truth. Because lives may change and hope may be lost, but they still want to believe…

**Extra: **a different take on _I Want to Believe, _considering an Alternative Reality post-_Fight the Future_. Spoilers from the episodes.

* * *

**A/N: **English is not my first language and I don't have a beta-reader at the moment, so I'm sorry for any mistakes, no one is perfect. Hope you enjoy this fanfiction as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

* * *

**OUT FROM UNDER**

**Prologue:**

**Let us just say goodbye**

_And part of me still believes_

_When you say you're gonna stick around_

_And part of me still believes_

_We can find a way to work it out_

_But I know that we tried everything we could try_

_So let's just say goodbye_

_Forever…_

"Out From Under", Britney Spears

**~ July 26th, 1998**

Dana Scully lowered her red-haired head and took a deep breath before coming closer to the door number 42. She could feel it: the raised heartbeat, the lump on her throat, the knees shaking besides the high temperatures, the sweaty palm hands. She was starting to panic and she knew it.

She also knew that nervousness would only make it worse, but she couldn't help it.

She knocked softly at the door but quickly understood that it wasn't needed, it was already ajar. Her blue eyes peeked through the hall and living room and focused on what was most interesting to her at that moment – _him_. With his back turned at her, sitting at his desk, his head lowered towards something he was holding on his lap, Mulder seemed completely lost.

Though hesitant, she inspired and expired one more time and knocked again, now as an attempt to waking him up from his own world. He seemed surprised to see her standing at his door.

"What?" he asked, noticing her tense expression. "What's wrong?"

Her throat suddenly dried out.

"Salt Lake City, Utah." It was everything she was able to say. "Transfer effective immediately."

Mulder shook his head, causing her to understand that he didn't want to hear what she had to tell him. Feeling a strange and huge tiredness taking control of her body and soul, Scully chose to continue with her speech:

"I've already handed Skinner my resignation letter."

"You can't quit, Scully, not now!" he interrupted.

"Yes, I can! I thought about not coming here to tell you in person, since I knew you would start…"

Her words were brutally cut by Mulder, when he got up from his chair and the photo album fell on the floor. She looked at the pictures – it was Mulder's family album.

"We're about to discover something!" he argued, with a voice tone near desperation, pointing at the album now lying at his feet.

"No, Mulder, _you_ are! Please, don't do this to me…"

He seemed astonished by her conversation. And to be honest, she understood him completely; she couldn't believe she had found the courage to tell him such a thing either.

"After what happened last night, after everything we've seen in all these years, how can you even _want_ to leave?"

"I did it, Mulder, it's done!" Scully looked the other way, incapable of facing her partner's devastated expression. "On Monday I'll ask for my readmission on the medical career."

"I need you on this, Scully!"

"You don't need me, you never did! I just hold you back…" She fought hard to let her voice be heard. "I need to go now, so…"

She wanted to say goodbye, to give him a last farewell, but the words died still on her chest. She couldn't do it, it was stronger than her; better not to insist, anyway.

Biting her lower lip in an attempt to fight the tears, she turned her back and left, leaving him behind, alone and defeated. Maybe he couldn't understand, but her heart was breaking for each step taking her away from his apartment. She didn't want any of this to happen, but it was for a greater good. She had suffered enough already; for her, for both of them. She had ruined too many of Mulder's plans. He had a goal, a very clear one… and what did she have, after all?

It was too late. Their situation had to end someday – and that day was now.

However, she hadn't reached the elevator at the hallway's end when she felt him, his claws digging around her arm, paralysing her, in expectation:

"You're wrong!"

Scully almost went mad. She turned to him so violently that, when she realized it, she wasn't stuck at him anymore.

"Mulder, why do you think they made us partners? Everything was just part of a plan to discredit you, to never let you go too far!"

"You are _so_ wrong, Scully! You saved me!" He pressed his hands against her shoulders, searching for her eyes, and didn't let her finish her reasoning. "No matter how hard things have been through these past five years, it were your rationalism and your science that saved me a thousand times. You kept me honest, you kept me alive… I owe you everything, Scully, and you owe me nothing!"

She tried to look the other way once again, but this time she wasn't able to. Her vision was blurred by the tears and she bit her lip. Why did he have to choose this moment to such words?

Mulder lowered his head towards hers. She had to try hard to hear him whisper:

"I don't know if I want to carry on without you. I don't even know if I _can_ carry on without you! But I know I can't give up… if I quit now, they win!"

They stared at each other in silence. Their usually light-coloured eyes seemed black in the darkness of the hallway. Without wanting to move away from his sad face, Scully smiled, as a thank you for the honest speech, and lifted on tiptoe to kiss him on his forehead.

For instants, Mulder wasn't able to answer back. Without further reaction, he just kept on staring at her, with a glimpse of sorrow dancing on his eyes. And suddenly he brought her towards him, slightly caressing the warm skin of his partner's neck and face. Although hesitant at the beginning, she got carried away by the moment and held his body against hers. She knew what was coming up next…

His hands stopped at her cheeks and he pulled her closer. Her breath became faster once she felt their lips touching and she anxiously waited for something to break them apart. But nothing happened. Mulder kissed her with all the tenderness he could offer, his arms squeezed her as if he didn't want her to ever leave, and the kiss tasted like the tears she couldn't hide any longer.

She pressed her lips against his. She had been waiting for this for _so_ long… but now it was _so_ late...

"No…"

Scully moved away. How could she face him after what had just happened?

"Please," he begged in a murmur.

With a deep breath, Scully turned her back at him and followed the path he had interrupted. She didn't want to look behind her, but it became impossible to avoid it once she entered the elevator. Mulder, now her former FBI partner, was standing like petrified in the middle of the hallway, still with that hurt expression haunting his face. But she couldn't change it – she wasn't able to do it anymore.

"I am _so_ sorry!"

Her last words sounded like a sob.

**TBC**


	2. Little great Christian

**Disclaimer: **characters and places belong to Chris Carter, to 1013 Productions and to Fox Network, except those created by me. If you find this fanfiction similar to another one, it's nothing more than a coincidence.

**Production: **January, 2009 – August, 2010

**Rating: **PG-13

**Summary: **In 1998, Scully left Mulder and the FBI to pursue her interrupted path in Medicine and try to be happy. Ten years later, while trying to save a young boy's life, some old wounds of hers are reopened once their paths cross in the search of the truth. Because lives may change and hope may be lost, but they still want to believe…

**Extra: **a different take on _I Want to Believe, _considering an Alternative Reality post-_Fight the Future_. Spoilers from the episodes.

* * *

**A/N: **I'd like to thank you for the response to the beginning of this work, I truly hope your expectations won't be defrauded.

Once again, English is not my first language and I don't have a beta-reader at the moment, so I'm sorry for any mistakes, no one is perfect. Hope you enjoy this fanfiction as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

* * *

**OUT FROM UNDER**

**Chapter I:**

**Little great Christian**

**~ January 11th, 2008**

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…"

Sister Claire walked through the infirmary towards the birthday boy's bed, carrying on her hands the small cake she had managed to buy at the cafeteria at the last minute. A lighted candle at the centre of it, like the cherry on top, made his little dark eyes shine in joy.

"Happy birthday dear Christian, happy birthday to you!"

A strong applause followed. Under the attentive looks from other children, their parents, doctors, nurses and nuns, Christian Fearon closed his eyelids with all the strength and smiled before filling up his lungs with air to blow the candle. Once the flame was extinguished, his smile opened wildly and he clapped with the others. Christian was so happy he didn't notice his father leaning over his shoulder, blowing the candle for him.

"Happy birthday, Christian!" they were saying through their hugs and kisses. "Congratulations, you big boy!"

At the infirmary's door, Dr. Dana Scully hid her hands in her white coat's pockets and patiently waited for everyone to calm down, for the parents to control their kid's joy and for her Health Care colleagues and fellow Sisters to return to their tasks, so she could be left alone with the birthday boy. Of course it would take its time – Sister Claire wanted all the children to sing «_Itsy Bitsy Spider»_, Keith was pouting at the idea of not receiving any presents and Dr. Alex was trying to convince little Lily not to take off the catheter that supported her intravenous antibiotic therapy. But after some minutes, the tension dropped and things went back to normal. When Sister Beatrice crossed the door, Rose was already playing quietly with her dolls, Nurse Felix was changing the dressing of a restless child and Mr. Bernard was resuming the story to his son.

In other words, the world could be theirs again.

"Hello, Dr. Scully," greeted Christian in his characteristic slow voice.

"Hello! And happy birthday!" Scully opened her arms to give him a tight hug. "How old are you now?"

He tried to raise the correspondent number of fingers to answer her question.

"Se-ven... I'm seven."

"Wow, Christian, seven years old, you're practically a grown man!"

She smiled gently at him and it was so easy, so quick, so... _good_! After almost ten years of training, Scully felt like a specialist on the matter. Actually, she didn't know why she hadn't tried to smile so much before.

Margaret Fearon, who was sitting near her son's bed, signalled with her head and Scully instantly knew what she wanted. Behind her, the father crossed his arms and started to move towards the infirmary's exit. Though he didn't say a word, she could feel his tension and worry.

"Sweetheart," Margaret tenderly caressed her son's face, "mom and dad need to talk to Dr. Scully for a second, okay? It won't take too long."

She got up and kissed him in the forehead before she followed Blair's steps with the other woman, which brought them to the corridor. When Scully closed the door behind her, she noticed the curious and disappointed look on the face of her little patient, who seemed so tiny in the middle of his hospital bed.

She winked at him. Everything was going to be fine. At least she hoped so.

"Thank you for taking care of everything today!" Margaret exhibited her familiar sweet and naive smile. "Christian was afraid you might forget his birthday, it's the first time we have to spend it at the hospital..."

"No one forgets anyone's birthday in here," guaranteed Scully with a secure expression. "We were talking about it since before Christmas!"

"So, have you received the tests results?"

Both women drew their attention to Blair, who, standing against the cold and nude corridor's wall, almost seemed to disappear within its darkness. His face was distorted by all the things he was trying so hard to keep inside himself – the anger, the revolt, the fear, the guilt and, mostly, the despair.

Scully stared at him and saw a man trying to find himself in the middle of his personal hell. And deep inside, she prayed for all of those negative feelings not to form a gigantic burst of rage against her.

"No, Mr. Fearon, I haven't. Like I've told you some hours ago," she tried to measure her words properly before turning them real, "these tests take some time. As soon as the results are known, I'll tell you."

"But you already know... that disease you were talking about... is that what my son has?"

Scully felt herself freeze by the question. The Fearons gave her back the same look, in expectation. What could she tell them?

"Let's wait for the results. But I don't want to give you any false hopes." Her voice came in a whisper, as she was about to confirm their worst fears. "You must be prepared for the extremely possible hypothesis that your son has Sandhoff disease."

He shook his head, trying to assimilate her words. His lips compressed into a thin line, as if he was holding back the fury that was heaping up inside of him.

"Sandhoff," he murmured at last. "And what's the possibility for the hypothesis that you're wrong?"

"_Blair_!" Margaret threw a warning look at her husband, which seemed to calm him down a little. "We tried to find some information on that disease, Dr. Scully, and I read that it's genetic. How can Christian be sick if there's not a single case in our family?"

And there it was, the question she knew she would have to answer sometime soon.

"Sandhoff disease has a recessive pattern of inheritance. It means that it requires the existence of two copies of the defective gene, each inherited from each parent. It's very normal for this kind of abnormalities to skip generations, over ninety-five per cent of diagnosed cases have no familiar history at all," explained Scully, who had also reviewed the pathology. "If Christian is affected, both of you need to be carriers."

"In other words, if Christian is affected," the mother concluded, with her voice taken by emotions, "it's our fault!"

"Mrs. Fearon, don't..."

"Was it possible for us to do something to avoid this?"

Scully held a lock of hair behind her ear, trying to hide her anxiety. Blair's question was pertinent and, obviously, understandable, considering their situation. The couple's reaction was on her list of predictable confrontations with the Fearons and she had prepared herself for each of them. But now, while facing the monster in the eye, she was starting to feel lost and disarmed in a combat that also belonged to her.

"We're playing with probabilities, Mr. Fearon. No one would think of submitting an unborn child to a genetic test in search of a disease for which there's not a history in the family!" Scully approached the couple and rested her right hand on Margaret's shoulder. "And even if you knew, there are only twenty-five per cent of chances of conceiving an affected child. You can't blame yourselves for what happened because there's no one to blame."

"But this would explain all of his problems?"

"It would explain everything. Even the respiratory infections Christian has had."

"His motor weakness, his mental deterioration..."

"And is he..."

Blair Fearon let his state of mind beat him and his eyes were now shining as two precious stones, due to the tears he could no longer hold. Professional experience had turned Scully able to see beyond his face, so she knew what he wanted to ask, she knew which word he had stuck beneath his tongue. She knew why he was so terrified.

"What's going to happen to him?" he finally overcame his own emotional limitations. "What are we going to do?"

Scully faced both and shivered inside. She knew that desperation – it had been a faithful partner of hers many years ago.

"We're going to be patient," she was actually scared once she heard herself answering back at him, "and discuss it all at its time."

Margaret sobbed and hid her face in her hands. Then her attention ran to the infirmary's window, through where she could see her little Christian. His delicate traces, his small stature and his low weight made him so tiny and fragile that everything around him seemed to take gigantic proportions. But there was something on his expression, or maybe a different glow in his eyes, that gave him a different aura. There was something special inside of him. Something that made him great.

Christian Fearon, the little great hero!

The mother couldn't fight her feelings anymore and started crying. Blair took his wife on his arms and held her against his chest, as if drowning her tears on him could make her feel better. They both knew that dark times were coming for their little family.

"Oh, Blair," Margaret whispered in despair, "our baby is dying!"

* * *

"Dr. Scully!"

The woman stopped suddenly in the middle of the corridor, trying to find the person calling for her. She noticed Father Ybarra, so solemn and stark on his dark vestment, coming closer to her with a half-smile on his face.

"Greetings, Father Ybarra," she said, closing the file she was reading.

"Good morning! Is it my impression or today dawned a little more beautiful than yesterday?"

"I'm speaking for myself, Father, but I already missed the sunshine!"

His eyes focused on the clinical file she was carrying on her hands. A dark shadow could be seen, spreading all over his face. Scully didn't need psychic abilities to know what was running through his mind.

"Is that Christian Fearon's?"

"No, actually it's not." No surprises until now. She was sure of his reasons to come looking out for her. "I was just checking the results of some blood tests done to Lily McGowan."

"Oh, of course! How is she?"

"She's getting better. I think she'll be able to go home soon."

"Christian, on the other hand..."

Scully took a deep breath. Although she didn't want it to happen, this boy's case and his family were becoming a serious limitation to her capacity to establish a line between her personal and professional selves.

"I received your report on the little one. And your suspicions left me truly worried," he confessed. Though he sounded pleasant, his serenity never reached his eyes. "Do you have a final diagnostic?"

"I've asked for more detailed exams, but they're not ready yet."

"You know, Dr. Scully, I may not understand a thing about Medicine, but I can understand that this is a very complicate situation!"

"It is, Father Ybarra. It is..." Scully's face was an expression of all her inner emotions. "Have you received my request too? I'm pretty sure of what those exams are going to say, and I need to discuss Christian's case with the medical board and some specialists. There's a team of neurologists in Washington that could be a great help, I would really like to talk to them..."

"Yes, of course. Can we meet at the end of your shift to discuss this?" She agreed with a nod and Father Ybarra smiled back. For the first time, something changed in the darkness of his eyes. "I need to go to the second floor. See you later."

And he left, just as fast as he had come. When a stretcher-bearer crossed the corner of the corridor pushing a sleeping boy in a bed, Father Ybarra had vanished.

There was something about this man that afflicted Scully. His smile never seemed to be from the heart, his posture was cold, sometimes even gelid, and she couldn't help but to feel an unpleasant shiver every time they shared the same room. He had never inspired her trust, had never given her faith and courage.

She could almost say Father Ybarra was everything a Father shouldn't be. He was everything that Father McCue, for example, had never been.

"Hey, Dana!"

She turned her face to her colleague, Dr. Alex St. Matthew, who was approaching her in the opposite direction.

"Hello since this morning," he greeted with a wide smile. "I wanted to talk to you at Christian's birthday party, but the kids seemed crazy and I got lost!"

"Don't worry, I know how they can make us forget about everything else when they want to!"

Alex seemed to notice her sad face.

"Is everything okay?"

"Hum?" Hearing his words, Scully finally woke up from her trance.

"I saw you speaking to Father Ybarra."

"It's nothing, Alex."

"Christian... It's serious, isn't it?"

She stared at Alex's gray eyes. Everyone was worried about Christian. Everyone _loved_ Christian. That was the reason why everyone was asking questions, and why everyone knew it deep inside. It was that strange capacity of being able to feel it when something was wrong with a loved one.

"Yes," she confirmed, looking the other way, "I'm afraid it's very serious."

A heavy silence fell between both after her answer. Alex knew what was wrong, he knew what was threatening to descend over the Fearon family. Alex also knew how hard it was being to her to deal with the situation, he just didn't know why.

But with that, Scully couldn't help him. He could never know.

"Hey," Alex's voice brought her back to reality, "do you want to join me for lunch? _Santos'_ is just across the street and they make such great tuna sandwiches, you won't be able to resist them!"

"Oh, I'm aware of those powers of persuasion of yours!" She couldn't help but to smile. "Okay, let's try those tuna sandwiches, just let me get my..."

"Please, Dana, you don't think you're going to pay for it, do you? Let _me_ get my wallet." He grimaced at his colleague and started to move away from her. "Don't go anywhere! A deal is a deal!"

"You can go in peace. I'll be here."

Scully watched him leave, noticing that he looked behind his shoulder for about five times just to make sure she was keeping her promise. She snorted – sometimes she wondered if Alex St. Matthew was some kind of a freak of nature.

Trying to recover her usual stance, she approached the Pediatric Ward's secretary. The young girl was so occupied filing her nails while listening to the news on the little television screen next to her, she didn't notice the other woman until hearing her voice:

"I thought Father Ybarra didn't approve televisions outside the kids' playroom!"

"Father Ybarra will only be a truly happy man on the day he admits that not all entertainment comes from the Devil!" Noticing Scully on the other side of the counter, Rachel immediately laid down the nail file and tried her best helpful smile: "Can I help you?"

"Lily McGowan's folder, can you put it next to the others, please? I'm going to eat something, you have my cell phone number in case you need me..."

"Sure, Dr. Scully!" She accepted the file and got up from her seat. "Have a nice lunch!"

Before leaving, though, something caught her attention, which led Scully to look at the television too. A journalist was announcing a first-hand news with a serious expression and hasty words. Behind his figure, she recognized the J. Edgar Hoover building.

"What happened?" she asked, pointing her chin to the screen.

Rachel turned at her:

"Another kidnapping!" The girl was obviously eager to discuss the matter with someone. "Have you seen this? It seems like everyday another person goes missing! The world has gone crazy, I can assure you!"

"And they called the FBI?"

"I don't know if the feds are nosing around, but rumour has it that this last victim is one of their agents. They're refusing to make comments..." And added, with a whiff of contempt: "Feds... they think they're so great..."

But Scully wasn't listening to her. Unintentionally, her heart had started beating so fast she felt the floor spinning under her feet. An FBI agent was missing. She had known those people – one day, a very faraway day, those people had been her family, and now one of them could be in danger.

Could it be someone she used to know? Could it be someone she used to call a friend?

Could it be... _him_?

"I'm sorry, Rachel, can you turn up the volume, please?"

But it wasn't needed anymore. In the screen was now the face of a woman in her thirties, with long and curly blonde hair. When Rachel grabbed the remote, they were able to hear the last request:

_«Monica Bannan was last seen two days ago. The family asks to all of those who might have informations on her whereabouts to contact the authorities immediately...»_

**TBC**


	3. No cures

**Disclaimer: **characters and places belong to Chris Carter, to 1013 Productions and to Fox Network, except those created by me. If you find this fanfiction similar to another one, it's nothing more than a coincidence.

**Production: **January, 2009 – August, 2010

**Rating: **PG-13

**Summary: **In 1998, Scully left Mulder and the FBI to pursue her interrupted path in Medicine and try to be happy. Ten years later, while trying to save a young boy's life, some old wounds of hers are reopened once their paths cross in the search of the truth. Because lives may change and hope may be lost, but they still want to believe…

**Extra: **a different take on _I Want to Believe, _considering an Alternative Reality post-_Fight the Future_. Spoilers from the episodes.

* * *

**A/N: **English is not my first language and I don't have a beta-reader at the moment, so I'm sorry for any mistakes, no one is perfect. Hope you enjoy this fanfiction as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

* * *

**OUT FROM UNDER**

**Chapter II:**

**No cures**

Being a doctor is not an easy job. But that's something everyone already knows.

Being a doctor is being available 24/7, when all you want to do is forget the rest of the world for just five minutes and put yourself in first place. It is trying your very best for other people, their stories and their problems, while forgetting that in you inhabits a human being with unsolved questions too. It is having a smile on your face to everyone around you, even when everything is falling apart inside. It is losing your personal identity in exchange of a professional one.

In fact, now that she was thinking about it, being a doctor isn't much different from being an FBI agent.

Scully woke up from her trance with a light knock at her office's door. Caught in surprise, she clicked the X placed in the right superior corner of her computer screen and watched the internet page disappear in one second. Not even a trace from her research work. Better this way.

"Come in!"

Laurie Wood's blond head took a peak from the door. One look was enough to notice her somewhat worried expression.

"Dr. Scully?"

"Yes?" Scully moved her head from behind the computer, searching for the face of her colleague. "Dr. Wood, is there a problem?"

"No, not really," said the other woman, entering the office and closing the door behind her. "Father Ybarra asked me to talk to you. He says that the conference room is available for today's meeting and all the equipment is ready to use. He also says he won't be able to be present at the beginning, but he'll be there as soon as he can."

The red-haired nodded. Even though she would never admit it out loud, she was relieved with the possibility of not being forced to face Father Ybarra's cold and distant figure.

"Ok, thanks for the information."

"Hum..."

Scully frowned when she noticed that not only Laurie didn't seem willing to leave her alone, but she was also looking around as someone who's trying to start a conversation but has no idea how. She started wondering if she was also looking for answers regarding Christian's future.

"Do you have something else to add, Dr. Wood?" Scully was trying hard to sound as warm as possible.

"Actually, it's just a curiosity. You know that there are people disappearing, right? That last victim, a woman named Monica Bannan..."

Well, that was an unexpected twist!

"Yes, I saw it on the news," she confirmed. "Why are you...?"

"Do you know her?"

"_Me_?!"

Laurie's eyes, dark as coffee grains, were shining and for a brief moment Scully felt a tightness in her chest. She didn't like to gossip, and she definitely disliked the idea of being the center of it. That was also the reason why she wasn't any closer with her younger colleague, or pretty much everyone else in that hospital: she had never felt comfortable enough to exchange any dialogue that was more than strictly professional with them.

"Why would I know that woman?" However, she already knew the answer to that question.

"Oh, Dr. Scully, people are saying that she is an FBI agent. And everyone already knows that you were one too, before you became a doctor."

Why wasn't she surprised with this conversation?

Scully dragged her revolving chair through the floor and got up slowly, with a serious expression on her face and without facing her colleague in the eye. She could feel her stomach twitching after hearing the mention of the forbidden subject.

"I'm a pediatrician, Dr. Wood." Scully's voice tone was cold, just like the one she hadn't used in years. "Who I was has no interest to who I am right now."

"But what's the big deal?" It was as if Laurie had finally found the courage to speak and let her know everything she thought about the matter: "You know, I think it's amazing! It must be so impressive, carrying a gun in your hands, chasing criminals and murderers! And trying to imagine _you_, Dr. Scully... you're always so calm, so... normal! In fact, it doesn't sound like you _at all_! I guess it's only natural that people would like to know more about what it's like to work for the FBI, but you never talk about it!"

"Dr. Wood..." Scully sighed. Sometimes, the adults were the ones who needed an extra dose of patience. "Are you familiar with the concept of privacy? It's one of my favorites."

Laurie understood the message. Obviously, she wouldn't get anything from her. At least no one could blame her for not trying.

The other woman came closer to her colleague and opened the office's door.

"I have patients to see," and motioned her to leave. It marked the ending of the first round and Scully had been an easy winner.

However, she couldn't avoid the weird feeling that this was only the first battle of a war that was about to burst...

* * *

"On the Fearon case, I reviewed the exams that were sent to us with my team of neuropediatricians. We were alarmed by two situations..."

"The deficiency on lipid metabolism and the diminished enzyme output."

"That's correct."

"Both are indicators of a lysosomal storage deficiency."

Dr. Hawkins agreed with a nod. With Christian's clinical file opened in her hands, and facing the results of several exams already done to the boy, Scully tried not to pay attention to the presence in the room of her other colleagues and the priests who were part of the administrative board of the Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital. They were like strangers to that exchange of information.

"I'm keen to suggest a type 2 degenerative brain disease, like Sandhoff disease," she continued, searching for the specialist's serious and professional eyes on the screen. "The defective gene blocks the normal function of the enzymes that are responsible for the disaggregation of lipid molecules. As a result, fat accumulates in the organism, causing the progressive destruction of the central nervous system, which leads to motor and mental atrophy."

"Are you the boy's primary physician, Dr...?"

A noise made her look away from the screen: Father Ybarra had just arrived. For some reason, it felt as if he had brought the cold to the small conference room. It was already too late for her not to notice what was happening around her.

"Scully, Dr. Scully," she answered as soon as she noticed that the specialist was still waiting for an answer. "And yes, I'm responsible for the Fearon case."

"And have you asked for his levels of hexosaminidases A and B? A deficiency of those could support your hypothesis."

"I've done that!" Scully closed the file, with the results still echoing on her mind. "I'm not looking for a diagnosis, Dr. Hawkins, I'm looking for a treatment."

Dr. Hawkins' mouth seemed to open in surprise. For a brief moment, Scully believed she was taking her for a crazy person.

"Dr. Scully, surely you know that there is no treatment for Sandhoff disease," she explained with the same patience of a person who explains to a child that two plus two is four.

"I know, but I researched on the matter and there are currently experimental therapies that..."

"The key-word is exactly that one, Dr. – _experimental_!" Sheila Hawkins came closer to the camera. "Our problem here is that we're talking about human beings, not lab rats!"

"I know that too, but..."

"I don't think that's something to be discussed!"

"So, what are you suggesting me, Dr. Hawkins, to leave the boy to die?"

Scully felt the harsh stares from her colleagues and priests weighing on her back and she could almost swear that some of them had stopped breathing as tension grew in the small room. She tried not to care about them. Dr. Hawkins' answers were all that mattered now.

The specialist shook her head in disbelief. Before answering, her lips formed a little sad smile on her face:

"We're not here to play God. Being a doctor is accepting that sometimes we can't save the lives in our hands."

Just like an FBI agent...

"Being a doctor is doing our best for the patients under our care!"

"And what do you think it's the best thing to do for the boy in this situation, Dr. Scully?"

A heavy silence fell in both sides of the video-conference. What was the best thing to do for Christian? Please, the boy had just turned seven! What could be better than a chance to grow up?

However, Scully was aware of the fact that she couldn't fight against Sheila Hawkins. She hadn't even blinked while telling her to give up. No need to think twice, no break in her voice, no detour to an unrelated point. Was she an ice queen incapable of deeper feelings? Or, quite the opposite, was _Scully_ the one losing control, risking her rational thinking and professional ethic?

"There is no cure for Sandhoff disease," said the other woman, concluding her opinion. The image displayed by the screen trembled slightly. "But I'm sure you'd let me know if there was one."

Scully lowered her eyes, as a child caught doing a mischievous action. The golden cross pending from her neck was shining.

"Sure!" The whisper that came out from her mouth gained a new strength while adding: "Thank you for your time and your opinion, Dr. Hawkins!"

"I'll be available in case you need me again. And, Dr. Scully," her face seemed gigantic in the small screen of the video-conference, "I'm sorry I can't help you!"

Of course she was sorry. Everyone was sorry. They were sorry of Christian's condition, sorry of the Fearons' nightmare, sorry of the fact that they were all innocent players that couldn't do anything to change the natural course of the situation. But being sorry didn't help anyone – Christian was still dying, Blair and Margaret were still horrified by the possibility of losing their only child, and they kept on doing nothing.

The screen turned dark when the connection between both hospitals was lost. The silence was still heavy on the small conference room. Scully looked around, facing those who were staring at her and those who pretended not to care about her or her struggles. Why weren't they speaking? Why were they reacting as if she was the wrong one?

Alex St. Matthew was staring too. His expression blocked her from seeing beyond his gray eyes and discovering on which side he was. And Father Ybarra... Scully wasn't able to face Father Ybarra right now.

"Excuse me," and she left the room, without bothering to close the door behind her.

It was done. She was alone.

She rested her head against the white, naked and cold wall in the middle of the corridor and covered her mouth with both hands. There was no need to lose her posture, they weren't there anymore to harass her with their stares and unspoken words. So, she lifted her chin and got ready for what was coming next. She knew she was strong enough to deal with it.

Scully walked through the corridor like a ghost, being there but not there, as if stuck between two worlds, so distant yet so close to each other. Doctors and nurses walked by her, as did assistants and visitors who carried flowers and balloons on their hands. So close... so far away...

Sister Beatrice smiled gently as she passed nearby, walking together with Sister Claire. Scully tried to smile back at her, but then she noticed who was coming behind them: Margaret and Blair Fearon, pushing the wheelchair where Christian was sitting. They saw her and walked towards her.

With a sigh, she approached them.

"Hello, Dr. Scully, how are you?" asked Christian with his usual sympathy and politeness.

"I'm just fine, thanks for asking. Feeling better?"

He nodded.

"So, Dr.," Blair took advantage of the moment of silence to satisfy his curiosity, "is the reunion over? What did the specialist say?"

"_She said what we already knew, that there's nothing left to do. Science is powerless to help you. All we can do now is put our faith in God and wait for His final decision."_

She noticed the expectancy on Blair's face. She saw Margaret's shy smile and Christian's straight look. They were still hoping. They still wanted to believe.

What could Scully say?

"Nothing new," she said at last, trying a smile. "We need to do some more exams, okay?"

"I don't like needles!"

"Oh Christian, I know! But this is really important!" Scully squatted next to her young patient and took his fragile hands. "Hey, I'll ask for Nurse Madeline to be with you! I've heard that she has this magic needle that doesn't hurt..."

"Hum, it doesn't hurt _much_."

With a smile, Scully got up and watched while the Fearons walked away with Christian. Blair looked behind once, as trying to read her now that they weren't facing her. As if, deep inside, he knew that something didn't go the way she had planned.

She saw the distance grew bigger and then they disappeared. She could stop pretending now. The smile died on her face. If her peers already thought it was wrong of her to find another way out, what would they say if they knew she didn't had the courage to take away their last hope?

* * *

Her eyes focused on the shrimp salad in front of her. She hadn't eaten a thing for seven hours but she wasn't hungry. She could hear the other people at the cafeteria, talking, laughing, commenting on their kids' school play or last soccer practice, and frowned. How could they not worry? How could they take interest in such trivial subjects? How could they be so...

_Normal_?

Lost in her thoughts, Scully got scared when she felt a hand falling over her shoulder. Then she saw Sister Beatrice's face appearing behind her, her lips smiling as a ray of light in the obscurity of her dark clothing.

"You know, Dr. Scully," she said with her harmonious voice, "God gives straight through twisted lines."

She nodded in agreement.

"I just wish I could understand His message."

"I know," Sister Beatrice came closer, as if ready to share a secret with her, "but that's why we have faith on His work!"

Scully smiled at her and she walked away, almost as fast as she had come. Before someone noticed it, she dried the tears that were threatening to expose her feelings and tried not to think about that day, the moment when she had reached the same conclusion as Sister Beatrice.

"_Maybe that's what faith is..."_

_«In other news, the searches for the missing FBI agent are being carried on. Monica Bannan has been missing for four days and the Federal Bureau of Investigation is not giving up in the search of her whereabouts.»_

The reference to the FBI and Monica Bannan captured her attention, which lead Scully to look at the television screen exposed at the wall behind the counter where she was having her lunch. Trying to focus on the reporter's words and not on the noises produced by the people still at the cafeteria, she was finally able to forget the Fearons for the first time in that day.

_«According to the information collected by our channel reporters, it was suggested that, after facing several difficulties, the FBI has searched for a special help outside of the agency...»_

They were now showing images from what appeared to be the Bannan residence. An anonymous audience, police officers and the dark-blue jackets that she knew so well were shown surrounding the place. Scully caught herself searching for familiar faces through the crowd. A man was writing furiously on his notebook. Another one was in the middle of the snow holding a fragile old man, who was shivering due to the cold. A journalist with a microphone was running after a young woman with long dark hair who didn't look at him twice.

_«... a special help...»_

There was something strange about that choice of words, something that caught her attention. 'Special' was a word with so many meanings behind it... 'Special' as unusual, as an expert? 'Special' as _paranormal_?

Without knowing why, Scully's mind made her focus at the image of the old man. Maybe she was wrong, but could that _not_ be a reaction to the cold? She examined what she was seeing, his eyes blinking, his body shaking without control while kneeling in the snow and falling over himself. _That_ was what was bothering her: that old man wasn't hypothermic, he was having some kind of a seizure!

And what about the man next to him? Why was he so familiar? Why was she under the impression that, behind the chunky jacket and the thick dark beard, there was someone she knew well?

Why were her hands so sweaty?

Why was her heart beating like crazy?

Somewhere, someone let a dish fall on the floor. The sound of glass breaking got to her and broke the walls she had built over time, the same walls that were stopping her from admitting what, deep inside, she already knew.

_Mulder..._

That man was no other than Fox Mulder.

**TBC**


	4. Tears of blood

**Disclaimer: **characters and places belong to Chris Carter, to 1013 Productions and to Fox Network, except those created by me. If you find this fanfiction similar to another one, it's nothing more than a coincidence.

**Production: **January, 2009 – August, 2010

**Rating: **PG-13

**Summary: **In 1998, Scully left Mulder and the FBI to pursue her interrupted path in Medicine and try to be happy. Ten years later, while trying to save a young boy's life, some old wounds of hers are reopened once their paths cross in the search of the truth. Because lives may change and hope may be lost, but they still want to believe…

**Extra: **a different take on _I Want to Believe, _considering an Alternative Reality post-_Fight the Future_. Spoilers from the episodes.

* * *

**A/N: **okay, I need to let everyone know that I'm back to work, therefore there's a strong chance I won't be able to update as regularly as I wished. Still, don't worry, this fanfiction _will_ be completed (even if it takes me a long time). :)

Once again, English is not my first language and I don't have a beta-reader at the moment, so I'm sorry for any mistakes, no one is perfect. Hope you enjoy this fanfiction as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

**OUT FROM UNDER**

**Chapter III:**

**Tears of blood**

One day, a day already so far away, she had been like everyone else: the same dreams, the same desires, the same hopes. Back then, she would stare at her own reflection in the mirror and see a young but strong-willed woman, brave and determined to make the world acknowledge how great she could be. She knew she could do it. _They_ knew she could do it.

And then he came into her life and nothing had been the same again.

She couldn't blame him for everything that had turned out wrong, fact. It hadn't been his fault when she failed that last mission. It hadn't been his fault that she couldn't face the discoveries they had made together. Just like it wasn't his fault that she ended up closing herself from a reality that wasn't the same to her eyes, which kept her away from everything around her, from all the things she had known, all the things that were still giving her a chance.

But...

There was always a 'but', right?

Scully pulled off the sheets and sat in the bed. It was raining outside and the raindrops were making a strong sound while hitting the bedroom's window. The clock marked 06:30 a.m. and the streetlamps, still on, were illuminating the increasingly lighter darkness. Dragging her soft body through the bedroom, she went to the bathroom and washed up her face with cold water, not so much to ward off the sleep but more as an attempt to erase the memories that had been aroused due to the events of the previous day.

In vain, however. It was stronger than her.

She left the room, walked through the dark corridor and entered the kitchen, after which she filled a kettle with water and put it over the stove. She needed a tea to calm down. Those had been days with too many emotions at the hospital, especially due to Christian's case, which was still weighing on her spirit. And now this thing with Mulder...

Scully wasn't sure of why she was being like this. It had been just a glimpse of his figure on television. Now that time had gone by, she wasn't even sure it was him at all! It had been ten years and people change, they grow old...

She sat at the table and buried her red head on her arms. They hadn't exchanged a single word since they had separated, nor a phone call, or even a text message. She had hurt him and she knew it. That was why he had never called to dissuade her from her final decision; that was why he had never followed her to convince her not to leave – she had turned her back at him after witnessing him opening his heart, right when he most needed her. And, truth to be told, that was also why she had never insisted, why she had never called first to know if everything was okay, why she had never met him to make sure they could still be friends.

She had left right after telling him she would never abandon him.

She had betrayed him right after winning his trust.

But why was she still pressing the same button? That man could even be someone else... And even if he was Mulder, what could he do to her? It was just a glimpse on television...

"_Stop thinking about it! You don't have to think about it!_"

The kettle began to sizzle. The water was ready. Outside, it was still raining and the day was dawning. Everything could be so normal. Why wasn't it?

"_You don't have to think about it! But I _am_ thinking it!_"

* * *

"Hey, Dana!"

Scully raised her head from the clinical file she was analyzing at the round table from the doctors' lounge and found Dr. Alex St. Matthew, who was now entering the same room. With a tired sigh, he left his body fall in a chair near her and put down his stethoscope over the table top.

"I didn't know you had the night shift today," he commented.

"I'm replacing Patterson, his wife and kid have the flu." Scully noticed that Alex was observing her and gave him back the look with a smile: "Well, it's not like the walls from my apartment are going to miss me!"

"Are you working on something new?"

She noticed the sudden change in his voice tone. She hadn't talked to him yet, about Christian and everything that had happened at the meeting with Dr. Hawkins, but something inside was telling her that, no matter how much he loved the little one, Alex wasn't going to stand by her side on this. He didn't agree with her profound insistence in saving a life whose fate was already traced.

Better not to talk about it.

"Yeah, a suspected appendicitis, the boy hasn't been here for long. I'm waiting for the results of some blood tests I've ordered."

"Okay..."

He wanted to talk about Christian. She knew it, she could feel it. She could see it in the way he moved his eyes towards the other corner of the office, how he rubbed his hands together, how he was crossing and uncrossing his legs beneath the table. She knew Alex for four years now, it was time enough to be aware of his body language.

However, neither of them was ready to discuss the case at that moment.

"Yes, I've heard about that kid!" Alex seemed to wake up all of sudden and his expression changed, though he didn't look any less uncomfortable. "You know, Dana, I've been thinking... I wonder if, by any chance... well... maybe tomorrow you'd like to have dinner with me."

"I don't work tomorrow, Alex."

"I know, me neither!"

"Oh!"

Scully stopped in the middle of her reading, caught in surprise. To her great embarrassment, she could feel her cheeks getting warmer. She couldn't believe she was blushing over the invitation.

"Alex, please," she asked in a murmur, as if it was a secret that no one else should hear, "we've been through this phase, we've had this conversation. Just friends, nothing more."

"I know! I remember, that's why I didn't insist before!" Alex forced a smile that didn't reach, not even close, the disappointment in his eyes. "But it's just dinner, Dana, a dinner between two friends. I mean, you're going to eat anyway, right?"

And he laughed, as an attempt to break the ice between them. It didn't work.

Scully knew what her colleague wanted and was trying so hard to hide using the words she wanted to hear. A dinner between two friends? No, that wasn't what Alex wanted, they both knew it. And she liked him, she liked him a lot; she appreciated his friendship and his trust, but that was all and that wouldn't change. That couldn't change.

She had crossed that line before and it didn't end well. She wouldn't commit the same mistake again.

"Right..." She closed the file and put it aside. Although it hurt, she chose to face Alex in the eye. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I've been so busy I started neglecting work at home and I was planning to catch up on that tomorrow. You know, domestic work can be hard..."

"Sure! I understand..."

That had been, by far, the worst excuse she had ever used to avoid an unwanted event. Luckily, the heavy silence was broken by the acute beep of a pager that started calling at the best possible moment. They both reached for their coats' pockets.

"It's mine. Pediatric surgeon to the rescue," said Alex, taking his stethoscope and getting up from the chair. "I'm going to see what they want. See you... later, I hope."

"You know where to find me."

He knew. Scully was the one who wasn't sure whether she wanted him to find her or not.

* * *

She hated the Our Lady of Sorrows at night. There was something terrifying about its corridors: a ghostly shadow tainted all of its corners; the patients' moans seemed to reverberate in the spaces; the endless prayers by the sisters watching over the souls of those under their care echoed in the darkness. Even for her, who had once faced murderers and psychopaths and even stared directly at Death, the mood felt a bit disturbing.

It was 04:30 a.m. when Scully returned to the doctors' lounge, holding a cup of strong coffee in her hands to fight the fatigue that was starting to bring her down. She had been called to the Pediatric Ward because one of the kids had suffered a seizure. Once the situation was under control, she had felt the urge to pay a quick visit to the infirmary where Christian was sleeping peacefully – she was scared that his clinical condition could get worse at any moment, and it was always a relief to see that everything was okay with him.

But now that she was thinking about it, she could understand that it hadn't been the most appropriate attitude towards her other patients. She had to occupy her mind with something else or she would go insane!

"Dana?" Alex opened the door and took a peek at the lounge. As soon as he saw her, he entered, seeming very satisfied. "Here you are! I was looking for you, but you weren't anywhere to be seen!"

"I went to the Ward, a kid had a seizure. But he's better now, the nurses will call me if needed."

"Well, if you don't have anything to do, sit down, because you won't believe what I have to tell you! You have no idea what I just saw!"

Curious, Scully followed his footsteps and sat at one of the chairs at the round table, near Alex. It was like he had completely forgotten the conversation they had had a few hours ago.

"So, what happened?" Her colleague shook his head out of disbelief. "Tell me! Is this about the reason why they called you before?"

"What? Oh, no, that was a false alarm! But there I was, at the middle of the ER, and that old friend of mine, Dr. de Mayo, came to ask me for my opinion on a man that had just arrived." Alex bent over her. "A man crying tears of blood!"

"Tears of _what_?!"

She only noticed that her voice tone was a few notes above the normal level when Alex put his index finger over his lips and hissed a warning 'ssshhh'. A bit embarrassed by her reaction, she looked around and shrugged.

"We're alone, Alex."

"The walls can hear!"

As if proving his statement, the lounge's door opened to allow the doctor in question to enter. Oscar de Mayo dragged his small and curved body towards the marble countertop and held the practically empty coffee kettle. Alex cleared his throat and Scully had to hide a smile when the other man jumped, caught in surprise.

"Alex! Dr.!" His white moustache trembled at every word. "I'm sorry, I didn't notice you two there, I was a little distracted!"

"It's fine, Oscar, we understand!" Alex crossed his arms and reclined in his chair, with a mischievous smile drawn on his lips. "I was just trying to hear Dr. Scully's opinion about your patient."

"Alex! I expressly asked you..."

"I know! But don't worry, Dr. Scully is trustworthy. And I think we'd both be interested to know what she has to say!"

He turned at his colleague and winked at her with the same expression. And suddenly, Scully was reminded of her old FBI colleagues. But how could he know? Sure, she had once told him that she had, in fact, been a Federal Agent before dedicating herself to Medicine only, but it had been just that. She had kept a secret about what she had done and what she had seen, she had never told him a word about the X-Files...

Oscar scratched his bald head and sat at the table with them, while letting go a deep sigh. His confusion was so great he didn't even remember the coffee he had come to take.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed. "Nothing makes sense."

"Did he have any recent trauma?" Scully was trying to establish the bases of the history to formulate her opinion.

"No, nothing! We took some tests, everything was negative, and there was no trauma, no previous history, no hemorrhage... Everything would be perfectly fine if the man hadn't started crying tears of blood!"

"And are you sure it's really blood?"

"Of course, I was there at the lab when they tested it. Twice!"

Scully and Alex shared looks. He was staring at her as if asking: 'See? I told you you wouldn't believe it!'

"Wait a minute, there has to be a flaw in this story!" She had never accepted facts without a scientific explanation and she wouldn't start now. "People don't just start crying blood out of nothing! Something must have caused a leak of blood to the tear duct..."

"There are no visible external signs, the fundoscopy was normal and the x-ray..."

"The FBI says he was fine at one moment and in the other he had a blood river going down his face."

"The FBI?"

Scully turned her head towards Alex once she heard his words.

"He works for the Agency?" Her throat was suddenly dry.

"Him?" Alex just laughed. "I don't think so. He's a priest."

"_Was_ a priest," Oscar corrected. "But I don't think you're very far from the truth. From what I understood, Father Joe has been working with the FBI on this latest case of theirs, you know... the one with the young woman that disappeared, they've even talked about it on TV..."

Since he knew that his friend had troubles to remember people's names, Alex clarified: "Monica Bannan."

_Monica Bannan_! The 'special help'. A flash interrupted Scully's thoughts and she remembered the image of the old man she had seen at television the other day. Could that be the same old man that was now crying tears of blood at the hospital, _her_ hospital? She could run but she couldn't hide – ten years later, there she was, one step away from falling into the paranormal again.

Could that man, that Father Joe, be the one who'd bring her back the monster that she had tried so hard to exorcize once and for all?

Could Father Joe be the one who'd bring her back the only person she wanted so bad to see again, but also never meet again?

"Oh, I'm sorry, duty calls!" Oscar turned off his pager, which had started beeping, and stood up. "I'm so desperate for a coffee and there's none out here!"

"C'mon, that's enough for a sip!" Alex imitated him. "I'm going with you. I need to check on your suspected appendicitis again, maybe he's feeling better now, Dana."

After hearing her name, she woke up from her momentary trance and nodded in agreement, although she had no idea of what he had just told her.

"Are you okay?" he asked after noticing her expression, while Dr. de Mayo abandoned the lounge following a voice that was already calling out for him. "You seem a little pale..."

No, she wasn't okay. She could feel her stomach contorting, her blood boiling, a nausea invading her. Vertigo made the world dance beneath her feet and she asked herself whether she was going to lose conscience or not.

"I'm fine! Alex," Scully passed her tongue over her lips, "who brought the old man to the hospital? Was it the FBI?"

He nodded.

"A man and a woman. And I think she's the one in charge." Alex snorted. "That little prick, she's probably younger than me and she tried to boss me around..."

"And the man? Do you know his name?"

"Yes." Scully's heart almost stopped beating during those hundredths of second. "Agent Dummy... I'm sorry, _Drummy_! That's why I remember it!"

It was like getting a bucket of cold water above her.

"Drummy?" She couldn't hide her surprise. "And there wasn't anyone else with them?"

"No..." Alex scratched his chin. "I mean, there was another man. He barely spoke while I was there. I had the impression that the old man had some kind of communication deficiency and he was his interpreter."

Of course. If her senses weren't wrong, she knew exactly what was wrong with Father Joe.

"But he wasn't a Fed," he concluded. "You can smell those from far away."

"How was he like? Tall, burly, dark hair," she tried to describe the figure she had seen at TV, "thick beard?"

"Exactly! Do you know him?"

Yes, she had known him... many, many years ago...

"Thanks for telling me, Alex!"

* * *

And this was it – her and the unexplainable, together again, sharing the same space, walking side by side. Between them, only glass, so fragile and so minimal it couldn't separate them at all, it couldn't protect her from anything.

The man, Father Joe, while asleep between the immaculate sheets of the hospital bed, seemed perfectly normal. His white long hair, spread over the pillow, seemed slightly reddish, although his face was now cleaned up. She noticed that there were no curatives around his eyes, which denoted the fact that crying tears of blood had been a one-time occurrence.

A woman was standing at one corner of the infirmary, gesticulating while using the cell phone, with her back turned at her. Afraid that she would notice her presence and not enjoy it, Scully thought it was time to return to her normal activity. She wasn't needed in there, anyway.

Then she felt a movement behind her, at the corridor. She hadn't even noticed that she wasn't alone. Instinctively, she rolled her heels and turned her back at Father Joe's room. At the row of plastic chairs along the corridor, a man with dark hair and thick beard was sleeping, with his arms crossed against his chest and his head supported by the wall behind him.

And it just happened. Right there, in that right moment, so quickly she couldn't even react, so unexpectedly she didn't even know what to do.

_Mulder!_

There was no denying. With ten more years above him, with his face darkened by the beard, she knew she wasn't wrong. That man was Fox Mulder.

The only person to whom she had given everything.

The only person from whom she had taken everything.

"_He didn't even notice,_" she could hear the voice screaming inside her head. "_Run! Run before it's too late!_"

She didn't even think twice. When reality hit her, Scully was already walking down the corridor towards her office, leaving Mulder behind her. If only he didn't wake up... God, please, don't let him wake up...

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said when she bumped against another woman wearing white coming from the opposite direction.

"It's okay, no problem!" The nurse put her hands on her hips. "Are you new here? You seem a little lost!"

"No, I'm... I'm a pediatrician. I came here to see a patient."

"Hum!" The other woman, large and small, gave her a pat in the back and smiled in comprehension: "You know, coffee is a great friend of those who work at night!"

Scully already knew that. But that wasn't her problem.

She saw the nurse moving away, but she didn't even dare to look at her again. She stood there for a couple of seconds and massaged her temples. What a long, long night!

And then...

"Hi, doc!"

The voice couldn't deceive her. Mulder had found her.

**TBC**

* * *

**A/N 2: **this is a special message to **Siya96** since you don't have the private messaging system available – thank you so much for your support! I hope you don't mind, I had to delay the interaction between Mulder and Scully, but it is promised for next chapter. Hope it will be worth the wait! :D


	5. Cold as fire

**Disclaimer: **characters and places belong to Chris Carter, to 1013 Productions and to Fox Network, except those created by me. If you find this fanfiction similar to another one, it's nothing more than a coincidence.

**Production: **January, 2009 – August, 2010

**Rating: **PG-13

**Summary: **In 1998, Scully left Mulder and the FBI to pursue her interrupted path in Medicine and try to be happy. Ten years later, while trying to save a young boy's life, some old wounds of hers are reopened once their paths cross in the search of the truth. Because lives may change and hope may be lost, but they still want to believe…

**Extra: **a different take on _I Want to Believe, _considering an Alternative Reality post-_Fight the Future_. Spoilers from the episodes.

* * *

**A/N: **I apologize for my real life.

English is not my first language and I don't have a beta-reader at the moment, so I'm sorry for any mistakes, no one is perfect. Hope you enjoy this fanfiction as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

* * *

**OUT FROM UNDER**

**Chapter IV:**

**Cold as fire**

"Hi, doc!"

Scully froze on the inside after hearing that voice again. The soft tone and the playful trace, the sarcasm always there. She wondered if it could be just her imagination, if it could be worth to close her eyes and carry on as if nothing had happened.

But how could she run away now, anyway?

She took a deep breath before doing it, then turned back and faced him. It really was Mulder. Apart from the natural aging process, the uncut thick beard and the informal clothes that weren't very usual on him before, there was no doubt: those hazel eyes, sometimes green, sometimes brown, remained exactly the same.

Feeling suddenly dry, she bit her lower lip. Ten years later, she couldn't read his body language anymore; she couldn't see what was on his mind for being face to face with her once more.

"Hi, Mulder," she finally said, still unsure of how was she able to speak.

He looked around for a while, as if searching for something. Then his attention focused on her and he adopted his most ironical expression, the one she already knew so well, with the smirk and everything. Scully was fully aware that that wasn't exactly his most sympathetic greeting.

"You were right in front of me and you didn't say a word," he complained, to her surprise. "Are you mad at me?"

"You... you were asleep!"

"No, I was only resting my eyes!"

That was so typical of him...

Scully placed her hands inside her white coat's pockets and stared at the floor. Mulder wasn't exactly at ease either, she could at least notice that: with his arms crossed across his chest and his left shoulder leaned over the nearest wall, he seemed determined not to look straight at her face again. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt such tension between them.

Actually, she couldn't remember much beyond their last goodbye. His words. The hurt on his eyes. "_I owe you everything, Scully, and you owe me nothing._" His lips against hers. His fingers caressing her skin. The taste of disappointment and salt. The emptiness inside her.

Hearing his voice again saved her from the torture of her memories: "I didn't know you were working here!"

"Oh, yes. Around five years now."

"Good..."

Mulder raised his eyes to meet hers.

"So... is everything okay with you?"

His question surprised her. It was as if ten years had turned two best friends into perfect strangers. As if ten years had made them stop caring.

"Yes, it is!" It was the only answer she could give him. "You?"

He shrugged, plain and disinterested:

"Happy as a clam!" The only answer she got.

There was something wrong with him. She couldn't find her ex-partner's essence in that man. Mulder seemed sad, broken, defeated; where were his energy, his fury, his passion for what he did? Irony could be his favorite weapon but, even ten years later, Scully was still immune and able to see beyond it.

She pointed her chin towards the room where Father Joe was resting.

"I saw you on TV with that man," she observed very calmly, trying not to sound too curious about the case. "Are you working on the disappearance of that FBI Agent?"

"Hmmm... the journalists shouldn't have nosed around!" Mulder leaned his back against the wall. He seemed extremely tired. "But yes, we're working on something. Are you here to see him? You're not the doctor in charge..."

"Oh no, no, he's outside of my age range of work! I'm just here because..."

The voice failed her. What was she supposed to tell him, that she was there to chase the reason that had once broken them apart? That she was there to investigate what she had always refused to believe? That she was there harbouring the hope to find him again?

But Mulder wasn't stupid. Obviously, he understood.

"You know what happened," he whispered. "You're here to see it for yourself."

Scully lowered her head with a half-smile of both gloom and esteem. All of sudden, the conversation felt like a trip back to their roots, reminding her of those good old times.

"That man cried tears of blood, Mulder," she admitted, replacing the vision of the tip of her shoes for a straight look at his eyes.

"And you already have your scientific theories..."

His voice tone made her frown for a second. No, the actual scenario had not so very subtle differences from her memories.

"I have my explanations," Scully confirmed, back to her uncomfortable pose, "but nothing useful, according to the exams already performed by the primary physician."

"Some trick, hum?"

"Is that why you're here? For the man who cried tears of blood... or is there something more about him?"

She tried not to think about the journalists' words. The 'special help'. The elderly man convulsing and rolling his eyes on the television screen. What was wrong with Father Joe? What role was he playing in that story? What was his connection to Monica Bannan?

Mulder straightened and faced her again, in silence. His arms were still crossed, almost as if glued to his chest.

"I don't mean to sound rude," and yet the way he spoke made it sound like that was his intention, "but why are you so interested on this? This is an X-File... I thought your heart was no longer here!"

Cold, distant, absent. There it was, the final confirmation of what she already suspected – that wasn't the Mulder she had once known. It was the end of a decade of doubts and uncertainties; she hadn't been forgotten, but she hadn't been forgiven either.

What had she done?

"Yes, let me stick to the Medicine," she agreed, pressing her lips against each other to not allow him to understand what was going on inside of her mind. "I wish you the best for this case you're working on. And the next ones, of course..."

He nodded, as if he had nothing else to add. Scully was starting to feel as a spare in the small and narrow corridor.

"I better go back to where I belong now, they might need me."

"Sure..."

"I hope Father Joe gets better soon. And good luck in the search of your missing colleague." Scully grabbed both ends of the stethoscope that was hanging around her neck. Alex's words were echoing in her mind and she couldn't help but to smile: "You know, my colleagues don't believe you're an FBI Agent. They say it's pretty obvious that you're not!"

The hazel eyes, sometimes green, sometimes brown, gained a strange glow. She knew there was something wrong before hearing him say:

"I don't work for the FBI anymore!"

And it felt exactly like that: quick, unexpected, painful and effective. Like a slap in the face.

"_I don't work for the FBI anymore._"

The uncomfortable silence was brutally cut short when a door opened somewhere along the corridor. The woman that Scully had seen near Father Joe at the infirmary left, searching around until she found them.

"Mulder," she called, walking towards them, "Father Joe is awake!"

"Let's go then, I need to talk to him!"

"Oh, do you need something from him, Dr.?"

The woman was now facing Scully. She tried to give her an answer but Mulder was faster:

"No, she was just walking by. C'mon, Agent Whitney, I need you on the interrogatory with me." Pulling her by an arm, Mulder started walking away, not without giving her a last goodbye: "Good night, doc!"

And he left with the woman with long dark hair, headed towards Father Joe's infirmary. Agent Whitney still gave her one last look over the shoulder, but he didn't. Just like she had once done to him.

Scully remained stuck to the ground, incapable of moving a muscle. She couldn't believe it had just happened! She couldn't believe she had just found him, talked to him, looked him in the eye, heard his voice again. So, maybe he wasn't the same anymore... but neither was she, right?

Only in that moment she realized that, in the whole fifteen minutes of conversation, Mulder hadn't mentioned her name once.

* * *

Dana Scully was a stranger to herself. The other, the Dana Scully she and everyone else had known, had died many years ago.

She could still remember how it felt like, dying. She remembered its touch and its smell; the feeling of powerless and despair while walking towards the end of the line without a solution that could save her. She had never been more terrified as in that moment, when she at last understood that miracles only happened in movies. But then she managed to break free from her fears and accepted her faith back. She was ready to leave.

When she had woken up in that morning, she had felt different. In fact, she _was_ different, and it wasn't just the cancer that had gone into remission – it was her. The person she had been had expired for the last time during that night. Facing Death had forced her to open her eyes to everything she was missing without even knowing it; the miraculous recovery was a second chance she couldn't afford to lose.

Still, she didn't like to think that her 'rebirth' was behind her decision of leaving the FBI. Maybe it had been the culmination of everything: Melissa's murder, Emily's loss, the unexplainable abduction, the fight against cancer, the nightmare of infertility. She had suffered more in those five years than in her entire life! Besides, she saw Mulder and realized that she would never be like him: she could lose her friends, her family's approval, her peers' respect, but she couldn't put the X-Files in front of everything. She couldn't look into the darkness anymore.

Did that turn her into a bad person?

She cleaned up her bathroom's fogged mirror with one hand and faced the woman that returned the stare. The wet red hair was falling in locks over her chest and back. She would never admit it out loud, but allowing her hair to grow had been a desperate attempt to run away from the old Dana Scully. That woman was who she was now: the doctor, the pediatrician, the life-saviour, the guardian of souls. That woman was who everyone wanted Dana Scully to be. She just kept wondering why had everything changed for the best, but her eyes had lost the shine from before...

For years she had wondered how it would go when they happened to run into each other. In vain, every single time – a thousand different scenarios and not even one had come close to what really went down. Mulder had been cold as fire, hot as ice; a simple exchange of bitter and gelid words and so much for five years of friendship. Could she blame him? She had hurt him where it hurt the most. But he wasn't exactly innocent in that situation, right?

_Right?_

Maybe they were both right. Maybe they were both wrong.

"_If I quit now, they win!_" Mulder had quit. Had they won?

Scully looked around, to the small bathroom full of steam, and pressed the Turkish towel against her wet body. She urgently needed to sleep.

* * *

"Good morning, Dr. Scully!" the Emergency doctor greeted when he bumped into his colleague at one of the corridors. "I saw Dr. Wood this morning, are you with her?"

"No, Dr. Randall, I did the night shift, I'm not working today." Scully tried to sound casual and even attempted a convincing smile. "Actually, I'm here because of that elderly man that entered last night with the FBI, do you know where I can..."

"Dr. Scully?"

It wasn't Randall who was talking – despite not hearing that voice for ten years, she could still recognize it perfectly. She turned her face to where the sound had come and noticed the bald man all dressed in black and with eyes hidden behind round glasses: Walker Skinner was walking towards her, with a smile on his face and wide open arms to hug her.

"Assistant Director Skinner?" she asked, caught in surprise. Dr. Randall used the moment to ask for permission to go.

Skinner came closer and hugged her tight in his arms. In face of such reaction, Scully couldn't help but to feel a sudden tenderness over her former boss; in moments like this, she always felt terribly sorry for once not trusting him, his words and his actions.

"Dana Scully! It has been so long..." he whispered in her ear. "I thought you were still in Salt Lake City!"

"Oh, no... It has been quite some time since then!"

"And in such a great country, with so many places and hospitals, we had to end up right at the one where you work!"

She smiled. She had noticed the irony too.

Skinner finally released her, which was a relief for her. She took a deep breath to compensate for the suffocation and he realized her state of mind. His eyes went down in embarrassment when he said:

"I'm sorry, Agent... I mean, _Doctor_! Wow, I almost can't believe it..."

"It has been quite a while, Sir!"

"Yes, I know. Ten years… it's a long time, Scully!" Skinner raised his eyes again and adjusted his round glasses. She could almost swear she had never seen him so satisfied. Or maybe she just couldn't remember how her former boss was when in a good mood. "I maintain the words I told you during our farewell: the FBI misses you a lot!"

Actually, she missed the FBI too. She missed the suspense, the making of the puzzle, the proving of her value, the adrenaline of a persecution, the bringing of justice to those who searched for it. Being a doctor wasn't very different from being an FBI Agent, but it wasn't the same.

"Thank you, Sir. But I think we both know I'm right when I say this is where I belong." And she opened her arms, indicating the Our Lady of Sorrows. "Are you here because of Father Joe?"

Skinner confirmed it with a nod.

"A pain in the ass!" He looked around. Between doctors, nurses, auxiliary people and patients, no one was paying attention to their conversation. "Are you aware of his history? Did you assist him this night?"

"I'm a pediatrician, but I was working and my colleagues asked me for an opinion on his case."

"Any conclusions?"

She denied, exasperated. She hadn't talked to Dr. de Mayo that morning, but she doubted that he had found any explanation for Father Joe's tears of blood.

"Well, it doesn't really surprise me…"

"Who is this man?" Scully questioned, incapable of holding back her curiosity. "Is he a psychic? A medium? Does he talk to God, to the dead? I know he's helping you with the Monica Bannan case and I saw him… Sir, I saw Mulder. Right here, at this hospital."

Skinner stared straight into her eyes. She didn't need to tell him how much the encounter had affected her, he probably already knew; surely he hadn't missed the break in her voice. And, if he had kept working with Mulder, he probably knew more than her. He knew what had happened during the past years.

He knew what he thought of her and her departure.

He knew the reason that had made him give up on his quest for the truth.

"You saw him…" Skinner looked around again, maybe to confirm Mulder wasn't there. "Did you talk to him?"

"Yes…"

"And how did you find him to be?"

Scully remembered his facial expression, his appearance, the aura that now surrounded her former partner.

"Sad. Defeated." She shook her red head and her eyes ran to the tip of her shoes with a smile of despair: "Mulder is still mad at me for what happened."

"No, it's nothing personal…"

"Why did he leave the FBI?"

She had to ask him, she just had to. The question was right under her tongue, waiting for the right moment to be spit.

The other man hid his hands on his long coat's pockets. Suddenly, Skinner seemed bothered by their conversation.

"Mulder," he said after a few seconds of silence, "has been through a lot. His life complicated a little and eventually he left the Bureau, almost six years ago."

"But why? Sir, the FBI was his home, the X-Files were his life! What happened that could be so serious for him not to be able to face it?"

He shook his bald head.

"I can't… I don't think I should be the one to talk to you. This is Mulder's personal life."

"Oh, of course!"

"I'm sorry, Scully."

But there was no need for him to be sorry. Skinner was right, anyway – Mulder's matters were Mulder's matters, no one else should be nosing around.

It still didn't help her curiosity, though.

Skinner raised his chin and adopted his professional expression. She already knew what he was about to tell her:

"I'm talking to you because of your past and because I know I can trust you," he lowered his voice tone and Scully had to come closer to be able to listen to his words, "but do you want to know the _real_ mystery behind Father Joe?"

**TBC**


	6. Let him go

**Disclaimer: **characters and places belong to Chris Carter, to 1013 Productions and to Fox Network, except those created by me. If you find this fanfiction similar to another one, it's nothing more than a coincidence.

**Production: **January, 2009 – August, 2010

**Rating: **PG-13

**Summary: **In 1998, Scully left Mulder and the FBI to pursue her interrupted path in Medicine and try to be happy. Ten years later, while trying to save a young boy's life, some old wounds of hers are reopened once their paths cross in the search of the truth. Because lives may change and hope may be lost, but they still want to believe…

**Extra: **a different take on _I Want to Believe, _considering an Alternative Reality post-_Fight the Future_. Spoilers from the episodes.

* * *

**A/N: **I _still_ apologize for my real life.

English is not my first language and I don't have a beta-reader at the moment, so I'm sorry for any mistakes, no one is perfect. Hope you enjoy this fanfiction as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

* * *

**OUT FROM UNDER**

**Chapter V:**

**Let him go**

A morning at the Pediatric Ward was always different from a morning somewhere else. Scully wasn't exactly sure why; whether because of the children waking up more or less energetic, or because of the parents exchanging shifts, it was always different.

In addition, the cold and the snow from that winter were still claiming territory and the consequences could be felt. For that reason, although a lot of patients had already said goodbye to Our Lady of Sorrows, the beds were still occupied and the infirmaries full. Health Care professionals had no time to rest.

"Rita Bell, on bed 11, had a temperature of 101,5ºF at the end of the night shift. We administered the antipyretic at 06:00 a.m. and the last measurement showed that she now has 99,4º," Nurse Felix informed her while pushing the blood pressure monitor down the corridor. "No other kid presented with complications during the night."

"Thank you, Nurse Felix. I'm going to check Peter Baker now. I think soon you'll have another empty bed."

"Just until the flu or the pneumonia bring us someone new..."

They smiled at each other and the nurse went away. His summary of last night was done.

"Dr. Scully! Dr. Scully!"

She stopped, looking for the person who was calling her name. There was a large figure wearing a religious habit exiting the nearby infirmary while blowing kisses to the little girl she was leaving behind. Sister Claire raised a finger to claim her attention and quickened her pace.

"Good morning, Sister!"

"Good morning! I hope everything is going well with you and the little ones!" Scully gave her an open smile as an answer. "Sister Beatrice asked me to talk to you. She wants me to inform you that we have a few novices to start their shifts at the Pediatric Ward and would like to know if you have any problems with it."

"No, of course not," she confirmed with a shrug, "I always leave the spiritual agenda under your care."

"Oh, Sister Beatrice simply doesn't want to bother your work. The novices will always be... novices, you know?"

Scully couldn't help it and laughed with Sister Claire. Her good mood, even at the less fortunate times, would always be something phenomenal.

Then her blue eyes focused on the Sister's figure, on the symbols of her faith and religion: the black veil falling down along the serge tunic, the white coif defining the contours of her face, the silver crucifix displayed over her chest, the wooden rosary hanging from her belt. Sister Claire was a virtuous woman who, in the name of God, following His call and His words, had dedicated her life to seek comfort for those in distress, especially the youngest ones, for whom she had an infinite patience. Sister Claire was the person that people expected her to be.

Inside her head, Skinner's words echoed, revealing Father Joe's disturbing secret. What was she supposed to think about what he had done? What would people like Sister Claire think? What would God think?

"Sister Claire!"

The other woman, who was already turning her back to leave, ceased the movement and faced her again.

"Yes?"

Scully wanted to ask her. She wanted to know what was her opinion on people like Father Joe; her opinion on people who proclaimed God's words and then inflicted such pain over innocent children. But it wasn't worth it and she knew it. Words could not describe the monstrosity behind those people's actions.

She shook her red head and adopted an embarrassed expression.

"It's nothing, I'm sorry..."

"Dr. Scully!" Rachel, the Ward's secretary, peeked behind the counter, holding the phone next to her ear. "You're needed at the ER! There was a car crash involving a six month-old baby, the ambulance arrives in ten minutes!"

With a nod, she removed the stethoscope from her white coat's pocket and put it around her neck. Then she threw Sister Claire a quick gesture of goodbye and left towards the staircase. It was time to get back to action.

* * *

Scully appreciated sad stories with happy endings. She appreciated to know that, in the middle of the misfortune that was being involved in a road traffic accident, no member of the family – father, mother, grandmother and baby – had suffered serious injuries. Although the baby had cried, screamed and kicked all through the examination, she was happy to conclude that there was nothing that needed medical care.

But of course she wasn't expecting to leave the examination room and bump into a certain person...

"Good morning, doc!"

Mulder was standing right in front of her, holding a cup of coffee on his hands and an expression on his face that she wasn't able to read. She held her breath for what it seemed like a full minute.

"Hello, Mulder," she greeted, trying to sound the most cordial possible. "You seem very awake and it's not even nine!"

"Yeah, I spook the sleep!" He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. "Busy morning?"

"No, not really. Everything is fine now."

"The kid screams as if someone is trying to murder him..."

Scully couldn't hide a smile.

"No one is trying to murder him, don't worry. It was just a scare, he'll be fine."

Mulder finished his coffee but kept holding the empty cup. His eyes were once again fixated on the tip of his shoes, then on the cup, even on the white ceiling above them, but never on her, on her face, on her own eyes. Scully tried to remember how many times had they ended up like this, being face to face without knowing what to say to each other – whether her memory was failing her or the fingers in one hand were enough.

She had to say something. She had to, because he wasn't going to say a word.

"How's Father Joe?" she asked, feeling her throat suddenly dry.

"Ready for the second round. That old doctor says he's going to discharge him this afternoon." Mulder finally dropped the empty cup in the nearest trash can and put his hands in the pockets of his warm coat. "Just so you know it... he still doesn't know for sure what happened."

Yes, that didn't surprise her; but that was not what Scully wanted to talk about at the moment.

"I already know, Mulder! I know everything!" she said, incapable of hiding it any longer. "Joseph Fitzpatrick Crissman! I know who he is, I know what he's done, I know what's his connection to the missing Agent's case!"

Her interlocutor just groaned.

"Skinner has a big mouth," he grumbled, scratching the top of his head. "He shouldn't have told you! This is a matter of the FBI and you're no longer part of it!"

"Neither are you!"

"But they asked for _my_ help!"

"And who says Skinner didn't ask for _my_ help?"

Mulder closed his mouth before throwing out the next argument, as if the detail hadn't crossed his mind. Apparently, he was having a hard time to understand why would their former boss do such a thing.

"Well, why would he?" he confirmed her suspicion.

She slightly opened her mouth in a grimace of surprise. Had her former partner, best friend, sidekick for the best and the worst forgotten everything they had shared or were his resentments towards her turning him into an idiot?

"What do you think?" Decided not to let him win, she wanted to see where this would take them.

"Okay," Mulder crossed his arms in what seemed to be a very defensive position, "what do you have to say about this?"

Scully snorted. Wasn't it obvious?

"Father Joe is a convicted pedophile! He ruined the life of dozens of kids who trusted him and his intentions!" She was feeling an enormous wave of rage growing inside of her, as if admitting it out loud turned it truer and harder to take than when she had heard it from Skinner. "And now he doesn't have anything better to do than to come to the FBI to claim that God is sending him visions to help them find Agent Bannan! Don't you think there's something very bizarre about this whole thing?"

"Like..."

"_God_ is sending him visions? You don't even believe in God, Mulder!"

"True, I don't, but it still doesn't mean he's not having these visions!" He rolled his eyes in a very characteristic way. "You know what's the problem here? People hear the word 'pedophile' and immediately draw their conclusions! And no, I'm not in any way trying to defend him for what he is, but the fact that he acted like a monster doesn't necessarily imply that he's a liar! At least about he's seeing!"

"And what has Father Joe done for you so far? Found an arm in the snow? C'mon..."

"An arm that can still be related to the case! It can be from the victim, it can be from the kidnapper..."

Scully sighed. For the first time since their reencounter, he was talking with his eyes focused on her and she could notice that, although time had passed and he had suffered some changes, Mulder was still the same boy eager for the mystery and the adventure. In what was linked to the X-Files, he was still the same Mulder she had always known.

"You really believe him, don't you?" she asked in a low voice tone, almost as a whisper.

He gave her back _that_ look. Curious. Enigmatic.

"Let's just say I want to believe."

* * *

"Hi, Christian!"

Scully approached her patient's bed with a smile on her face. It had been a while since she had last spent a moment with him, even if it was just to share some small talk, since Mulder's unexpected return and Father Joe's case had occupied a good part of her time. But now she had to put her feet back into the ground and worry about her other problems.

Christian grabbed the remote to lift the head of his bed to an almost upright sitting position. His pale face was being enlightened by the sunbeams penetrating through the infirmary's window and she could notice that there was something wrong with the main picture – the little boy had never looked as stern as this moment.

"Sweetie, are you feeling well?" Alarmed by the possibility, Scully glanced around searching for anyone who could answer her questions about his clinical evolution, with no luck. "Where are your parents?"

"Having lunch." Christian clearly worked on his voice to sound as ordinary as possible. "I wanted to know... when will I leave the hospital?"

She had to laugh with the relief. The only current intercurrence was pure and plain homesickness.

"You know what, I've been wondering the same thing!"

"Dr. Scully... _when_ will I leave?"

Something had radically changed on Christian, which caught her attention. It couldn't simply be homesickness or even an understandable dose of impatience; no, it was something stronger than that. She stared into his brown eyes. Did it make any sense that his eyes were filled with terror?

"What's wrong, Christian?" she insisted, worried about his abnormal reaction. "Are you scared?"

The boy ended up nodding.

Instinctively, Scully looked over her shoulder. Scared of what?

"I'm scared of the man!"

"The man?! What man?"

Christian directed his stare to the infirmary's exit and she followed it. With that she was able to notice the figure in a black cassock that, a few steps away in the corridor, pretended to read a clinical file. He couldn't deceive her, though: Father Ybarra couldn't take his eyes off them.

Bothered by the situation, Scully walked towards him. As soon as he sensed her coming, the priest started browsing the pages of the folder, paying no attention to the information that they held.

"I was looking for that," she announced, pointing at the file in his hands.

"I was revising Christian's evolution. Have you received his latest tests results?"

"With all due respect, Father Ybarra, that information is only relevant to the primary physician."

He raised his eyes at her, cold and haughty, as he usually did. In a provocative attitude, he kept on moving page after page.

"But making sure that the medical staff assures the best conducts for the patients of this hospital is relevant to me, Dr. Scully. And I can guarantee you, my soul can't be deceived."

She frowned, wondering what was he trying to transmit with that conversation.

"I've reviewed the entire Fearon case, including the opinion of the specialists," Father Ybarra admitted, staring at the file again. "I don't think there's anything else we can do for Christian. Maybe it's time to start thinking about transferring him to another institution, one with better options for him..."

"What are you saying, Father?"

Scully was trying hard not to let her anger take over. She knew what he was saying – he was announcing that it was time to abandon the boat, to put the arms down, to give up. Medicine was no place for heroisms and miracles were a figment of the mortals' imagination; avoiding the fall in the pits of madness was throwing the hot potato to the hands of others before it started to burn hers.

"I'm saying," Father Ybarra stared at her as if he had just caught her doing a mischief, "that we're here to heal the sick, not to maintain the suffering of the dying."

A few steps away, an employee from the cafeteria bumped into a nun coming from the opposite direction and dropped a lunch tray on the floor. All the fuss produced by the occurrence had Father Ybarra diverting his attention towards the situation and Scully used the moment to remove herself from that unpleasant discussion without a warning.

She left through the corridor, feeling her temples pulsating in a rage so hard that even her vision was becoming blurred. How dared he? How dared he to give up like that? He was a priest, for God's sake! He should be the one sitting next to those parents and that child, providing them the love and the hope they needed and deserved to hear. Who would they trust now, when their own Lord had abandoned them?

Scully entered her office. Safe, at last. She took off her white coat and placed it at the hook behind the door. Now she could reflect about the Fearon case not as a professional worker but as a person... and a mother. Maybe that was the reason why she was feeling the urgent need to sit down; she knew she wouldn't keep the tears inside for too long.

Her hands went straight to her face once she felt them overflowing. It was stronger than her. Were her actions turning her into a bad doctor, a bad person? Were her actions proving her selfishness, for trying to exorcize her own demons through an innocent someone else? Or were the other ones who were wrong, all of those who didn't seem to understand that Christian was just a child with yet so many things to experience? There could still be a chance, they just needed to fight their fears... they just needed to believe. Christian deserved it. The Fearons deserved it. No one should know the pain of losing a child.

She reached out to her purse, searching for a paper tissue, but while looking inside, her eyes fell over its interior division. Without even thinking, her hand pulled the photography hidden on it. The little girl depicted in the picture wasn't like the other little girls – that little girl never had a chance to grow up. She was a Christian from other times, other stories. The only difference between them was that the little girl from the picture didn't have someone to fight for her; today everything would be different.

Scully put the picture back in the division. It wasn't worth it. The little girl would never change and she would never forget her. She took the paper tissue, blew her nose, cleaned up the tears. Next, she closed her eyes and dived into the darkness. No, she wouldn't hit rock bottom: she would emerge to the surface, explain her point of view and open their eyes to what they were missing, all of this without reminiscing about the ghosts from her past. And then...

Would she finally be able to forgive herself for her decisions?

Would she finally be able to forgive herself for not giving _her_ little girl a chance?

Her pager started beeping inside the coat's pocket. Somewhere, she was being needed. Scully threw the messy tissue to the trash bin under the desk and pressed her knuckles against her forehead. She had to recompose herself and move on. Definitely, emergencies didn't give her the proper time to grief.

* * *

For the first time in many years as a Health Care professional, Scully managed to leave the hospital on proper time. However, while walking down the corridor towards the main exit, the problems with which she had struggled during the day blocked her from acknowledging the insignificant fact.

She passed the automatic glass door and left the warmth of the Our Lady of Sorrows to the gelid January cold; her first impulse was to tighten up the long brown coat against her body. While descending the staircases on the way to the parking lot, though, her attention was drawn to the other side of the road – a woman with long dark hair that seemed strangely familiar was walking an elderly man and then helped him to enter the car that was being driven by a serious man with dark complexion. Only when she recognized the third figure waiting on the sidewalk, she understood what was going on: Father Joe had been discharged and was now leaving the hospital with the FBI.

With Mulder.

Scully observed him entering the car right after Father Joe, while the female Agent took the seat next to the driver. When the headlights were turned on and its glow illuminated the road, it hit her too that Mulder was leaving without even saying goodbye. There was a chance he would never return to the hospital, and they might never see each other again... but he didn't even bother to tell her.

But maybe she shouldn't think about it. She and Mulder were over, the end. They were nothing more than two people who had once shared something beautiful.

The car was about to leave, taking away part of her problems from the past days. Goodbye, Father Joe! Goodbye, paranormal! Goodbye, Mulder! Maybe now things would get easier. Maybe now she could go back to the Dana Scully she was rediscovering inside herself. In that case, what was that heavy and unpleasant feeling of disappointment?

In that moment, however, she noticed that the car was leaving but Father Joe's face wasn't moving, practically glued to his side window. And he couldn't take his eyes off her.

The space between them was getting larger, but Scully was still able to see the smile that was emerging on his lips.

**TBC**


End file.
